Faded Memories, Too Bright Realities
by grosssssseeeee
Summary: She believes in knowing/recognizing/feeling right away, that this is the one person that you're supposed to be with forever. That after that one, whether it works or not, that's it. She believes in 'the one'. Maybe because she's only ever had one...


Some people believe you can have many loves in a lifetime. That different people, at different times in your life, can make your heart skip a beat. Give you those butterflies, deep in your gut, whenever you so much as think about them. Santana Lopez has never been 'some people' and she has never believed in 'many loves'. She believes in knowing/recognizing/feeling right away, that this is the one person that you're supposed to be with forever. That after that _one, _whether it works or not, is _it_. Anyone that comes after will never measure up. Never give you those intense forever, _forever_ feelings. Whether you want them to or not. She believes in 'the one'. Maybe because she's only ever had one…

* * *

"_San...don't look. Not until I say, OK?" Brittany calls to her over the fitting room door._

"_I won't," she calls back. She tries her damnedest to hide her frustration with being here. Here...in this hole people have the nerve to call a store. One hour, twenty-three minutes and counting in this godforsaken thrift "store". It's not that she hates, actually yes, she does hate thrift "stores". It always smelt funny and there's no annoying, high pitched sales associate that comes and bothers you every two seconds, asking if you need any help. Who is she supposed to yell at? Herself? Just not acceptable._

"_Promise you won't look," Brittany continues, bringing her out of her thoughts._

"_Brittany." She is so over this "store"._

"_Santanaaaa," Brittany whines. "Promise?"_

"_Brittanyyyy," she whines back. "I don't even..." She stops mid-sentence because Brittany has her face stuck up over the dressing room door, pouting at her. Puppy dog eyes and all. If people knew how often this very face worked on her(including now, she's sure), they might think she was whipped. Thankfully, this is not a known fact about her. Just two people are aware of it actually._

_She sighs and pauses for dramatic effect(just because it's a fact, that doesn't mean she has to like it). "I promise."_

"_Yay, cover your eyes," Brittany says quickly, clapping and vanishing behind the door again. She can faintly hear the rustling of clothes. "I just...ow...I'm almost...oh my..." There's a loud crash._

_She's up off her seat and alert, rushing towards the door before she can even register what happened. "Brittany? Brittany, are you OK? What happened? What are you..."_

"_Done," Brittany interrupts her, bursting through the door, arms wide. "How do I look?" She ask nonchalantly, twirling. As if she wasn't aware her girlfriends heart almost jumped out of her chest._

_She should be mad, but she's too engrossed with...whatever Brittany is wearing. She'd say a dress, but she's really not sure. Whatever it is, Brittany looks...amazing. Gorgeous. Sexy. Beautiful. Stunning. "Great," she offers lamely. Its wrong to have sex in a dressing room, its wrong to have sex in a dressing room, she repeats over and over again in her head. Silently yelling at herself._

"_Great," Brittany repeats smiling. "We can go now. I know you don't..."_

"_What? No, it's fine," she interrupts her, pushing her back in the dressing room. "I can just, you know, wait, until you're done trying everything on," she sputters out, closing the door. She prays to god there's more of...whatever it is she has on, in there._

"_But you don't like thrift stores," Brittany pops back out to say._

"_But __**you**__ do," she cocks her head to the side. "And I kind of like__** you**__," she finishes, tapping Brittany's nose affectionately, before closing the door again. _

"_Santana." Brittany pops out again._

"_Brittany." She copies, staring at her smiling._

"_I love you." Brittany says quickly, kissing her softly on the mouth, before retreating back into the fitting room again._

"_I love you too," she says quietly to the door before sitting back down into her designated 'tell Brittany she's pretty' waiting chair._

_She thinks she doesn't mind thrift stores all that much now. It still smells funny, but having to yell at herself to not jump her girlfriend's bones doesn't bother her too much._

* * *

Why exactly, Brittany wanted to meet or why exactly, she agreed, she will never know. But here she is. Here she has been for the past 15 minutes, 35 after their agreed meeting time. And here she thought **she** would be all cute, being fashionably late. Rude. She wants to leave. She should leave. Waiting 35 (15) minutes for an ex-girlfriend she hasn't seen in years is pathetic. When did she get so pathetic? Santana freaking Lopez is not pathetic. She's leaving.

Then she sees her. All bright blue eyes, blond haired, five-foot, seven inches of her. She looks exactly the same. Except different. So completely, wonderfully, amazingly, beautifully...just different. If it was anyone else, she'd still leave. But her legs are wobbly and she can practically hear her heart pounding in her chest. And it's not just anyone. It's Brittany. So she sits. She doesn't really have a choice. She never really did when it came to one Brittany S. Pierce.

* * *

"_Santana," Brittany says in her sing-songy tone. "Step and turn with your left," she repeats for the millionth time, showing her the move again._

_She just sighs and throws herself on the ground. "Brittany, I can't OK. I'm just, I'm not a dancer. I can't just step and turn to my right." She is exhausted and frankly a little embarrassed. She does not do embarrassed._

"_Left actually...never mind," Brittany plops down next to her,"you can too dance. And you're really good at it. I have to look at Finn whenever you dance in the choir room, so I can laugh instead of get turned on watching you. You're not just good at it. You're sexy when you dance." Brittany finishes, smiling brightly._

_She turns away, because again, she doesn't do embarrassed. "Of course I'm sexy. I'm the hottest bitch there." She pretends to be 'type A, I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent' Santana because the alternative is 'a pile of goo' Santana. "But being sexy and knowing how to dance is **not **the same thing," she finishes, turning back to look at Brittany._

_She doesn't expect the kiss, but she's used to the feelings that come rushing through whenever they do kiss._

"_It is to me," Brittany says simply, smirking, pulling her to her feet again._

_She's suddenly in a much better mood._

* * *

It isn't at all how she imagined. She doesn't really **know **how she imagined this would go. But she is pretty sure this is **not** it. This...mundane conversation. Just talking. About nothing really, just idle chatter. Work(Brittany's a dance teacher, she's a lawyer), kids(Brittany's got three beautiful kids-she saw the pictures, she's got a gold fish), significant others(Brittany's in love, she is too. Except she's not. She's got no one. She's alone. She lies.), and 'hey let's talk about this so we don't have to talk about that' talk.

Santana has been so over this conversation the minute she brought up the kids. She never liked kids(She's never liked Brittany happy...with someone else. She actually loves kids.) And she knows. She knew the minute Brittany stepped foot into the cafe. That she was happy. With life. With everything. (With out her.) She doesn't know how she feels about it.

Brittany's rattling off about her pregnant dog now. And it's all too much. She can't stay quiet anymore. And really, she's surprised she lasted this long. She has to find out. She has to know. It's been eating away at her since their phone call a week ago.

"Brittany, why did you call me?" She blurts out. She was never good with the subtlety or tact for that matter.

"...what?" Brittany stops mid-sentence, wide-eyed.

"Why did you call me? Why did you want to meet up? Why...are we here?"(Why are you not in love with me anymore?)

Brittany looks down, "I, I just..." she stammers. "I, I guess I..." She looks back up. "I missed you. We've been through a lot together. We were so...close." She stops. "You were my first love."

She's not sure what hurts more. Having their years together summed up to being...close. Or being referred to as her "first love". Meaning the first. Meaning not anymore. She thinks it's the latter, it makes her feel like she's stuck in the past, while Brittany has obviously moved on. Seemingly leaving the past exactly where's it's suppose to be...in the past.

"...we were in love," Brittany's smiling at her now. "And happy, so happy..." she trails off again. Silent for a few minutes. "I just, I hate to think of all that and be where we are. How we are. We don't see each other anymore. We don't talk. And the last email you sent me was how you weren't going to Quinn's wedding because you were...busy." She doesn't hide her obvious annoyance. "I miss you San. I want to be friends again. Can't we just be friends again?"

She wants to say 'I love you. I never stopped loving you. You are my one. My _forever_ forever And I'm scared I'm not going to get another chance. Not just with you, but with anyone. With love. With living. Not just having a life, a career, friends, and a big ass apartment, but really **living **life...with someone. I've forgotten what it's like to not feel so detached and miserable. To have everything, but nothing at all. I feel so alone. I don't want to feel like this. I didn't feel like this when I was with you. How do I stop without you?'

Instead she smiles, nods her head and says, "I miss you too." And just to see Brittany smile(forever her favorite thing about her) she adds, "who said we ever stopped being friends?"

And she does smile and it's glorious and it's all she thinks about as Brittany gives her the address to her house.

"You can meet the rugrats. You're going to love them and they already know all about their Aunty San," Brittany tells her cheerily.

She hates it already. She's dreading it. She won't be able to handle it. "I can't wait," she replies as Brittany hugs her goodbye.

She just has to know, for certain, one more thing. "Are you happy Brittany?"

Brittany finishes putting her coat on, then pauses to look directly at her. "Yeah, I am."

Brittany doesn't ask her the same and she is almost positive it's because she already knows.

* * *

_They're lying in Santana's bed, half-naked and exhausted from their little afternoon quickie. If you can call an hour a quickie. She is content and happy and wants to stay just like this forever. And she has a sudden need to know if Brittany feels even a little of what she's feeling. It's stupid and dumb and girly and so completely not her. But she wants to be reassured that her girlfriend is happy too._

_And because **she **is Santana, forthright and blunt and **she **is Brittany, innocent and open. She doesn't hesitate to ask. "Are you happy Brittany?" She turns on her side, propping up her elbow to lean on, looking at her. "Here. With me. Are you happy here with me?" _

_Brittany mimics her previous movements. "The happiest," she answers grinning. "Here," she kisses her shoulder. "With," she kisses her neck. "You," she finishes kissing her hard on the mouth._

_And she's suddenly giddy and smiley and so in love. In this moment. She's never felt this way before. She doesn't want to ever forget it. She's not going to. And just as suddenly she feels a prickling at her eyes and really doesn't want to cry right now. So, instead she smiles and says, "me too," kissing her back._

_She doesn't know if she believes in 'the one' but if she did, she's almost certain Brittany would be hers._

This just kind of came to me and wouldn't leave, so I got it out. No beta, all mistakes and I'm sure there are many, are mine. First Glee fic, first Brittana fic. Hopefully I did both at least a little justice. Possibly a two-part story, but for now just a stand alone.


End file.
